


One Good Day

by mysticsushi



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 05, The Crush tag, Torture, Violence, not my usual cup of tea, probably not as violent or bad as I think it is but be warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:37:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticsushi/pseuds/mysticsushi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike has his one good day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Good Day

9:27 p.m. It was a time that would forever be emblazoned in Spike's memory. It was at that time on a Thursday night that his chip stopped working.

Drucilla was the one that had started things in motion several months ago. Before he betrayed his dark queen, before he cut Harmony off once and for all.

"Electricity lies, Spike," he had said, running her fingers over his head. "It tells you you're not a bad dog, but you are."

He had had plenty of time to ponder her cryptic statement in the dankness of his crypt, a bottle of whiskey his only companion. Drucilla was insane, but she was clairvoyant and had been incredibly lucid that night.

Spike had entertained several theories regarding her claim. He had never tried them out due to his overwhelming hatred of pain, but he had entertained them.

Except on that Thursday night at 9:27 p.m. He had been in the Magic Shop, providing the Scoobies with entertainment because it was a slow night for them demon-wise. And as they insulted and emasculated him, those theories and plans resurfaced and rain in his brain. If he focused, if he didn't think about it, then maybe . . .

After everyone left except him and the ex-demon, he got to test his theories out. He was already a short step away from the edge of rage. So when Anya made a comment about his short-circuited intelligence at 9:27 p.m., shoving his fist through her chest seemed like the most natural thing to do.

He was pretty sure his face was an exact replica of hers, plastered with shock and disbelief. The look was still on her face as he withdrew his hand from her chest, her still-beating heart in his palm.

It was still there as her body fell to the floor, lifeless.

His blue eyes stared at the heart, the body, and the heart again. Then a grin, a purely evil show of teeth, grew on his face. The chip was no longer insurmountable, which meant the Slayer was once again open prey.

The ex-demon's heart made a wet, plopping sound as he dropped it onto the ground next to her corpse. Careful not to step in blood he calmly walked out of the store.

With very little finesse, Spike grabbed the first human he came across and ripped into her neck. The rich blood that rushed into his mouth was like ambrosia. It was human blood, warm and fresh, and he had killed to get it.

Two others met their death at his hands on the way back to his crypt. Not because he was hungry, but because he could.

He wasn't that upset that the ex-demon had met a quick end. He had rather liked her, a part from her degrading comments, and he had needed to find out he could overcome the chip. The others could make up for her lack of pain.

Darkness bled into day, and he began to plan. Normally he didn't do very well with plans, or at least didn't bother to carry them out, but this time he would. This time was different. He had to avenge his honor, make them all pay.

When he woke up from the restless, excited sleep he had drifted into, he knew Xander would be his first true target. The boy would be the most upset over Anya's death and therefore the easiest mark.

He had been careful not to leave any identifying marks when he had left, so the Slayer and her followers barely paid attention to him when he returned to the scene of the crime. Which was good, because he needed to be seen as harmless.

"What has you lot in a tizzy?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

The redheaded witch spared him a glance. "Some demon killed Anya." Then she paused, remembering something. "Did you see anything last night, Spike?"

"No, not a thing." He hadn't been able to see himself kill her, so it was true.

"I can't believe she's dead," Xander said. The boy was sitting on the stairs to the top level, staring at the spot Anya had lain. The floor was still stained crimson from her blood.

The Slayer looked at him sympathetically, while Spike tried not to laugh. "Why don't you go home, Xan," she suggested. "Get some rest."

"And something to eat," added Willow. "You haven't had anything all day."

He shook his head. "I don't think I could do either."

"Come on," Buffy said, grabbing his arm. "I'll walk you home."

"No!" Spike objected, drawing the full attention of everyone present. "No, I'll take him. You should stay here, find out what did this terrible thing." He dropped his head in what he hoped was a shy and uncertain move.

There was silence for a few moments before Giles joined in. "He's right. Xander, go with Spike."

Inwardly, the vampire was doing the dance of joy. Outwardly, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and said, "Come on, whelp." As they left the shop, he added, "I need to stop at my place on the way."

They walked to and through the cemetery in silence, each wrapped up in their thoughts. Xander finally spoke when they were inside the stone structure.

"You know, fangless, you don't have to baby-sit me," he said, staring at the door as if his life depended on it.

"I'm not," Spike answered. He walked around his home, picking up objects and testing their weight to see which would be best to use.

The boy scoffed. "Yes, you are. You're hoping that doing this will get you on Buffy's good side. I don't need someone to look after me."

"I'm not baby-sitting you," Spike said again, lifting up two empty whiskey bottles. He hefted them in their hands, judging their weight, but put them back down after a minute. "And you do to need lookin' after. You're girlfriend's dead."

A shudder ran through the mortal's body. "I keep wondering if she felt any pain," he said, more to himself than his companion.

Spike wasn't really listening anyway. He found a double-edged ax propped up in a corner and picked it up, satisfied with his choice. Walking over to Xander, the vampire held the ax so the flat part was parallel with the ground. Then he lifted it above his head for more momentum and strength.

"Did she see it coming?" Xander was still talking, still staring at the wall. He didn't see the vampire's actions behind him. "Did she suffer?" 

"No, it was quick," Spike said, bringing the ax down.

The boy started to turn. "How do you kn-" He was unconscious before he could finish his sentence.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Since it was where Xander has done most of his tormenting, Spike thought it was poetic to bring the boy to his parent's basement. Placing him in the same chair he had once occupied, Spike tied Xander up, using chains so escape would be close to impossible.

It was several more hours before the mortal regained consciousness. Spike watched from his perch as Xander struggled to free himself. He couldn't help the laugh that escaped his throat.

"Spike," Xander said, recognizing the laugh. "What's going on? Who tied me up?" When the vampire made no move to answer, Xander huffed. "Come on, untie me before whatever it is gets back."

"I've got news for you, Harris," Spike said, taking one last drag from his cigarette before grinding it into the floor. "It never left."

"But that's impossible. You're the biteless wonder."

Spike chuckled. "Not anymore. Your fuck-bunny is proof of that."

"Anya." The boy visibly paled. "You . . . you killed Anya."

The Englishman walked over and crouched before Xander. "Well, well, not the dullest light bulb after all. If it makes you feel any better, it was quick." Another chuckle. "Shocked the hell out of us, both."

Xander began to struggle against the chains again. "You undead bastard. I'm going to stake you myself."

"Oh, I'm tremblin'." Spike stood up again and looked down at his hostage. "I'm goin' to kill your friends, one by one, and you're goin' to sit here and be able to do nothin'."

"Why not just kill me?"

"Because I'll need to share my victory with somebody when I kill Buffy." The vampire walked over to the stairs, but paused at the bottom. "Feel free to scream all you like. No one can hear you; I made sure of it."

Spike grinned as he made his way to the University of California at Sunnydale campus. It had been along time since he had been able to terrorize anyone and it felt damn good. He just might overload on it.

Thanks to modern technology he found out where the witches' room was. If something worked well the first time, he didn't see why he couldn't use it again. He waited until a few minutes before sunrise to knock frantically on their door.

The blonde was the one to answer the door. "Spike?"

"He's gone," Spike said. "I turned my back for a second, and he took off."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "Who?"

"Xander. This was the closest place, and the sun is rising . . ."

"Oh. Oh!" She moved to the side. "Come in."

He walked past her, an evil smile on his face that was gone when he turned back to face her. "Where's Red?"

"She's in the bathroom, but s-she'll be back in a minute."

"Good." Then he reached out and snapped Tara's neck. "Just enough time."

The witch fell to the ground very much like Anya had. He wasn't upset that she was a quick kill, either. He barely knew her enough to hate her.

Not wanting to waste time, Spike picked the blonde witch up and dropped her onto the bed. He broke a few more of the girl's bones to make it obvious something was wrong. Once he was satisfied, he moved into the shadows and waited for his prey to return.

Her reaction was one of such beauty that he wished he had a video camera to record it for all time. She walked in, closed the door, and glanced at her girlfriend while she put her clothes in their hamper.

"Decide to go to bed without me, sleepyhead?" Willow asked. She paused when she didn't get an answer. "Tara? Don't tell me you've already fallen asleep."

Still getting no response, she fully turned and saw her dead lover. She was frozen for a minute before life and grief took over her body again.

"Tara!" she screamed, rushing to the blonde's side. Her hands moved hesitantly at first, afraid to touch or damage, but at last the read-head gathered the girl to her and began to sob.

Spike watched as Willow gently set the girl down after a while, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "I'll find out who did this to you, baby. I'll find out who did this to you and make them pay."

She was so caught up in her grief that she didn't notice him slink behind her as she picked up the phone. "Giles? Tara's . . . Tara's dead. No, her neck's broken." A pause as she listened to him. "Okay, I'll wait here." Then she hung up without saying good-bye.

His arms were around her as soon as she put the phone down.

"Wonderful day, isn't it, pet?" he asked, whispering into her ear. As she began to struggle he tightened his grip until he heard the bones break. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Xander - it was quick."

"Xander," she breathed out raggedly.

"Don't worry, he's still alive, at least for the moment. Can't say the same for his girl. Or yours."

She began to cry again, and any worry he had of her magic vanished. Her powers were buried beneath her sorrow and pain. He grinned in triumph as his face shifted and he lowered his fangs to her neck.

Draining the redhead was true bliss, all of her power and fear and grief rolled into a fine vintage. He would have preferred to kill her in her old dorm room, to succeed where he had failed before, but it was still just as satisfying.

Letting her bloodless body slump to the floor, he picked up the phone and hit redial. "Watcher? It's Spike."

An explosive sigh blasted his ear. "Spike, I don't have time for this. Tara-"

"Is dead, I know. Red told me. Listen, Dru's back in town and I think she's behind all of this."

"Really? Buffy and I hadn't heard anything."

"Well, we've got two dead bodies that say otherwise."

The English mortal paused, and Spike knew then that he had hooked his next victim. "I've got to call Buffy back and tell her."

"Red's already on it. They're headed over to the mansion as we speak. I told her I'd phone you and let you know."

"Then I'll meet you there." The Watcher hung up, leaving Spike listening to the dial tone and coasting on wave after wave of heady victory.

Somehow Spike got to the mansion before the Watcher, even though it took him several minutes to find sewer access at the campus. He still didn't quite know what to do with Xander and tried to think of something during the travel time, but came up with nothing. He still had time to figure something out, he decided as he entered his old home.

When Giles entered the main room of the mansion, Spike was smoking a cigarette and looking around, determining just what he would and wouldn't be able to do in the room.

"Spike? Any sign of Drucilla?"

He took another drag of his cigarette and waited for the mortal man to reach him before he responded. "This place looks like it hasn't been touched in ages."

"I suppose that's a good sign." Giles looked around, peering into the corners of the room. "Where are Willow and Buffy?"

"Willow's lying dead in her room, and Buffy's probably there," Spike replied conversationally.

The Watcher paused, sure he hadn't heard the vampire right. "What?"

Instead of repeating himself, Spike punched the mortal with all his strength, causing the man to go flying across the room. His head slammed into the stone wall and he passed out, just like Spike wanted.

It took a bit of maneuvering to string the English man up, since Spike had always had minions to do the menial work. Still, he didn't give up and managed to arrange his victim so his wrists suspended him from the ceiling, which were chained together.

A few cigarettes later, the Watcher woke up and discovered his position. His eyes flew over the room to land on Spike, who was leaning against the nearby wall.

"You," Giles said in a low but steady voice. "You killed Anya."

"Got it in one. Want to use that sharp mind and figure out who else?"

"Tara." His voice grew hoarse. "Willow."

"I guess that Oxford education really does come in handy. Let's see how you do with this one: the first two were quick, Red was emotional torture, Xander is psychological torture, and Buffy's going to just be fun. Where does that leave you?"

Somehow Giles managed to hold his chin up and send his tormentor a haughty glare. "If I could survive Angelus, I can survive you."

Spike walked over to a table and picked up a large dagger, one with a curved, serrated edge. "You seem to be forgettin' that I saved you from a chainsaw, old boy." The last two words were said with heavy sarcasm. "Besides, he always went for craftsmanship. I'll settle for pain."

He dragged the blade across the Watcher's chest, slicing open both shirt and skin. The dagger was sharp, but the serrated edge ripped and tore at the skin, causing a great deal of pain. Tiny rivulets of blood ran down the exposed flesh, only to be absorbed by the fabric. He did this several times, striking out at random. The clothes were in tatters when he was done, leaving pale English skin decorated with red gashes and drips.

Once he was bored with cutting, Spike set the dagger down and pulled a poker from the fire he had started earlier. He then dragged the red-hot metal across the mortal's open cuts. Soon the room smelled of seared flesh.

The vampire relished the smell, the sight, but mostly the noises. Each moan, each cry of pain was a magical sound to be tucked away and savored. He was inflicting torment on one who had caused him to suffer. It was as close to heaven as a demon could get.

Soon, however, the blonde grew bored as the excitement of torturing the Watcher wore off. The reactions became repetitive and unsatisfying with each new thing that caused pain. Games were Angelus' specialty; Spike was one for instant gratification.

He had planned for his eventual boredom, for he knew that he had yet to get the response he wanted from Giles. Letting the mortal recover somewhat, Spike began to set wood underneath his suspended victim. As his coherence returned, Giles noticed what his captor was doing.

"Wha-, what new torment is this?"

Spike continued to work as he answered. "I call this one 'justice'. You see, I remember several times you let me burn while I begged - BEGGED - to be let inside. Figure I'd let you know what that's like."

And lighting a match, the vampire tossed it onto the pile wood and kindling. Trails of smoke wafted up into the air, quickly followed by tiny flames. They grew until all of the wood was on fire, causing the flames to reach out for new territory. Unfortunately for the Watcher, that new territory consisted of his tattered clothes.

The blaze consumed the material and traveled to his flesh, causing the skin that was still intact to blacken and crack apart. The previous smell of charred skin was replaced by the raw, acrid stench of a burning mass of human meat. It hung in the air and clung, an oppressive, intangible thing.

Giles began to struggle then, but he was very low on strength and his movements only caused the fire to travel higher. After several minutes he finally gave up and began to cry.

"Oh God, please, no," he repeated over and over again, until he no longer had the vocal cords to do so.

Spike waited until there were no more cries to leave the mansion, which was shortly after sunset. He was satisfied with the Watcher's reaction, having wanted the man to cry and beg for his life as the flames took it away. It was nothing less than what Giles deserved, in Spike's opinion.

Next and best was the matter of one Buffy Summers, the dessert of the gourmet meal he had helped himself to that day. He had plans he had been working on for months, and nothing short of the end of the world was going to stop him from carrying them out.

Finding her proved to be tricky, for there were a number of places she could have been. He passed by the college, which was swarming with police, peaked around her house, which was dark, and even checked his crypt. He finally found her at the Watcher's place, which did seem fitting as the last place she would ever see.

"Spike?" she said as he walked inside, disappointment clear in her features. "Have you seen Giles? Or Xander?"

He paused a minute, taking in her appearance. Her hair was unkempt, the result of pulling at strands and shoving fingers through it. Any makeup she had had was long gone, but tear tracks still lingered on her cheeks. It was, he thought, an excellent start.

"Seen them?" he said, closing the door and locking it behind him. "You could say that."

"Spike, I don't have time for games." She walked up to him and slammed him into the door. "Where are they?"

"I'm not goin' to tell you if you're goin' to play nasty," he told her. When she made no move to lower him, he raised his hand and grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling hard. A clump came out of her scalp and she dropped him quick. "That's better."

Her hazel eyes widened with horror as she clutched at her bleeding head. "Your chip . . ."

"Is no longer a problem. To answer your questions, the Watcher - or whatever the fire left of him - is hanging in Angelus's old stomping grounds. The whelp's still alive."

"You. You killed Anya and Willow."

He made a tsking noise and took a step forward. "Don't forget the blonde witch."

She took a step away from him. "But the chip. How did you get it out?"

"Who said I got it out?" He laughed coldly but joyously as her eyes widened even more. "You know, you're the only one to ask me how. It's simply a state of mind over matter. I stopped expecting pain and started causing it."

Buffy lowered her hand and set herself into a fighting stance. "You're not going to hurt me."

"It's only a matter of time, luv, and I've got all the time in the world."

He launched at her then, trying to knock her to the ground. She dodged to the left but was stopped short by the couch. He attacked again, throwing a punch with his right, which she blocked and countered. Quickly he ducked and attempted to knock her feet out, but she jumped out of the way.

They continued to fight the best they could in the tight quarters, knocking over chairs, stools, and piles of books. At one point Spike went flying over the couch, crashing into the coffee table. He pushed to his feet and used the couch cushions to jump over the couch and land on Buffy, slamming her into the ground.

Since she cushioned his fall, Spike was able to pin her to the ground with relative speed. The force at which she hit the ground, however, caused her right shoulder to become dislocated. Keeping her still with his body, he broke her left arm just under the elbow.

He smirked evilly at the look of utter hopelessness on the Slayer's face. Everything he had planned, had wanted since overcoming the chip was within his grasp. Victory was so close he could see it, but he wasn't about to get too cocky. He had seen victory before and had still been defeated.

She was wearing a skirt that day, something that Spike was thankful for. All he had to do was unbutton his pants and push them down to his knees, position his hard staff, and push.

The cry of pure pain and defeat was priceless, and for yet another time he wished he had a camcorder so he could truly preserve the moment. It was a sound he had longed to hear from her for so long. The smell of blood filled his nostrils as he pumped into her dry channel, tearing her tender entryway and violating her in the oldest, most intimate way.

When he had reached orgasm, he stuffed himself back into his pants and stood, leaving her broken and sobbing on the floor.

"Now who's pathetic?" he asked as he zipped up his jeans. "It seems I've managed to get the better of all of you." She quieted but did not answer him. Annoyed, he reached down and pulled her limb body up against his, her neck in his hand.

"I think you'd like to know I've decided what to do with you remaining friend," he said, caressing her face with his free hand. "I'm going to tell him what I did, but after I turn him. That way he can enjoy it as much as I have."

As she began to cry again, he pushed her head to the side and sank his fangs into her neck, enjoying the powerful blood. He was instantly hard again, but draining her, pulling every last drop out of her body was more important than satisfying his urges.

Carefully, he placed her body on the floor, with actions just shy of lovingly. She had been a worthy if not aggravating opponent.

"I told you I'd be here, Slayer," he said to her corpse. "When you gave in on that one good day."

Ripping open her shirt just below her breasts, he took a knife and carved into her stomach SPIKE WAS HERE. He wanted the Watchers to know who killed the Slayer and credit him accordingly.

He whistled on his way back to Xander's basement and down the stairs. His lips pursed together in delight to find the boy was still tied up and hadn't managed to escape. For a while he had been worried that Xander would have done so, because everything had gone too perfect for him that day. Whatever ruled the universe must have been smiling down on him to allow his plans to come to fruition.

"Did you do it?" the boy demanded, glaring at Spike.

Rubbing his hands together, the vampire nodded. "You're the only one left. And do you know why?"

"No, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me."

"I'm in a sharing mood." Spike got down so he was right in Xander's face. "You're left because being forced not to do anything while all your friends died is the worse torture possible for you." He shifted into his demon visage suddenly, and the boy jumped as much as he could. "This is the second worse torture."

After the witch's and the Slayer's blood, the mortal's was old, stale, and almost sickening. But Spike drank, and once Xander was on the verge of death, he cut open his wrist and made the boy drink.

When the whelp died, he finally allowed himself the victory celebration he'd been inching to have all day. He went out and partied, which meant lots of alcohol, lots of violence, and some sex thrown in to get rid of the erection he had been sporting since draining the Slayer.

Upon waking up the next day, Spike discovered his newly-made childe was also awake and eager to begin learning the ways of evil. Surprisingly, the blonde discovered he was looking forward to having a pupil.

"Come on, boy," he said, leading Xander out of the basement. "I've had one good day, and I think the two hour drive to LA will be just enough time to tell it."


End file.
